Catalyst
by CetiAlphaV
Summary: An innocuous event on an away mission forces T'Pol to acknowledge her feelings towards Captain Archer.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This story feels like it's set sometime near the end of season 2 of Enterprise, but it could also take place later.**

**I always felt that Archer/T'Pol was a much more believable (dare I say "logical"?) pairing than Trip/T'Pol, because the two characters have so much more opportunity to learn from each other, and lend support to one another. As usual, I'm ignoring any later canonical developments which get in the way of where I want the plot to go.**

**I'm unsure how far to take the story; I'll see how I feel in the next few days. There could certainly be several further chapters if there's interest in reading more. My main focus is on exploring the idea of awakening emotions in T'Pol. I'd love to hear your thoughts on what I've written.**

**One last minor note: I'm in the UK, so be prepared for British spellings.**

* * *

T'Pol was unaware of the slight crease on her brow as the shuttlepod doors opened. The landing party of herself, Captain Archer, Hoshi and Travis were returning from a successful visit to the planet below, having negotiated a trade for some necessary supplies with the humanoid inhabitants.

She glanced over at Archer as he got up from his seat, carrying his mission jacket under his arm, and exited the shuttlepod wearing a faint smile. He did not look in her direction.

_He is pleased at the success of our trading mission_, she thought. _Humans easily become distracted by such feelings_.

That seemed logical. Nevertheless, it was rare for him not to chivalrously allow her to precede him when entering or exiting the shuttlepod - or anywhere else for that matter.

_Then perhaps he is distracted by other matters_, her mind suggested.

She walked across the shuttlebay towards the doorway to the corridor, the crease in her forehead rapidly becoming a frown.

* * *

The flame of T'Pol's meditation candle wavered slightly as she exhaled audibly. She was off duty until morning, but it was proving difficult to quiet her thoughts.

_I am... unsettled_, she realised. _But why?_

Certainly nothing had gone wrong since she had arrived back onboard Enterprise; she had filed her mission report within an hour of leaving the shuttlebay, and had then retired to her quarters.

_The mission was also an unqualified success_, she thought. There was no cause for disquiet there. And yet she realised she was now frowning.

_Find the origin of the emotion_, she thought. That was the key to identifying its cause.

She cast her mind back over their seven hours on the planet, searching for something amiss. The initial greeting, the trade negotiations, a meal, the exchange of goods - all had proceeded without incident. Then they had returned to the landing pad a short walk from the storehouse building, and awaited the shuttlepod.

_The shuttlepod was slightly late due to atmospheric turbulence_, she recalled.

They had had to wait for around ten minutes beside the landing pad, with a diplomatic functionary and the Trade Minister they had dealt with.

_The female Trade Minister_, her mind amended, and she subconsciously raised an eyebrow.

The Minister had been friendly, but even more so with Captain Archer. She had clearly been impressed by him. Even when walking back out to the landing pad, she had not left his side.

The weather had been clear and bright, though not warm. T'Pol had found it somewhat cold, but the humans and the planet's inhabitants found it merely...

_"Breezy," according to Ensign Mayweather_, she remembered. He had even partially fastened the front of his jacket.

_The Trade Minister had not brought suitable outerwear_, she thought. And suddenly the emotion flared up again. Taking a cleansing breath, she followed the memory.

The Trade Minister had been listening to Captain Archer - _somewhat inappropriately attentively_, T'Pol's mind suggested - when she had noticeably shivered. Archer had immediately apologised for the delay in the shuttle's arrival, and after a moment's thought had removed his jacket, placing it around the woman's shoulders.

T'Pol's frown returned in full force.

_The Trade Minister seemed... grateful_, she thought, and realised that the muscles of her lower back had become tense.

The woman had returned the Captain's jacket when the shuttlepod had arrived shortly afterwards, and had placed a hand on his arm when thanking him. The away team had said their goodbyes, and had returned to Enterprise.

_I have been preoccupied since the incident on the landing pad_, she realised with some bemusement.

Such a response was illogical. It was unwise of the minister to have joined the Enterprise crewmembers on the exposed landing pad without sufficient layers of clothing for the weather, and it had been a diplomatic gesture of the Captain's to offer her the use of his jacket until the shuttlepod arrived.

There was no fault in that line of reasoning. And yet the emotional response must have a source.

_I myself did have appropriately insulated clothing_, she noted, and then wondered why she had thought it. It would be illogical for a Vulcan, who was feeling the cold to a greater degree than her human shipmates, to offer her jacket to the minister.

_It would also be illogical to prefer that Captain Archer had not given the woman his jacket_, her mind whispered, and once again the emotion rose up.

She opened her eyes. There seemed to be no reasonable explanation for her state of mind.

_I must simply be fatigued_, she decided. It would be best to complete her meditation and then retire for the evening.

She stared at the candle flame for a long moment without really seeing it, and then closed her eyes once more. She began to clear her mind of turbulent thoughts, as she had done thousands of times before, and she did not even notice the flame once again flicker as she sighed.


	2. Chapter 2

T'Pol placed a cup into the resequencer, briefly glancing around the Mess Hall.

"Camomile tea," she instructed, and the drink filled the cup within seconds.

She turned and paused, once again scanning the tables in the large room. She had arrived for breakfast more than thirty minutes earlier than usual, and the Captain would not be in his private dining room for some time.

She saw the distinctive tied dark hair of Ensign Hoshi Sato, and approached the table.

"May I join you, Ensign?" T'Pol asked, and Hoshi looked up from the PADD she was reading.

"Of course, Sub-Commander," the younger woman replied with a smile, gesturing to the seat opposite.

T'Pol nodded and sat down, taking a sip of tea as Hoshi watched her expectantly.

"Have you submitted your report regarding our mission yesterday?" T'Pol asked, more due to the other woman's obvious discomfort with silence rather than any real interest in the topic.

Hoshi nodded, smiling once more. "Last night," she replied. "The mission seemed to go off without a hitch."

"Indeed," T'Pol replied, and once again an echo of the strong, troubling emotion rose up. She chose to ignore it as she continued. "It is refreshing to conclude a mission without armed conflict," she said, raising one eyebrow almost imperceptibly.

Hoshi laughed, nodding and rolling her eyes. She couldn't understand why people thought that their Vulcan first officer had no sense of humour; she clearly did, and simply chose to express it subtly.

"I think we have the Captain to thank for that," Hoshi said, drawing a further raised eyebrow from T'Pol. "I thought he handled the negotiations really well."

"The Trade Minister certainly seemed impressed with him," replied T'Pol without the slightest pause, and she was unsettled to hear a distinct note of what her human crewmates would call sarcasm in her voice.

Hoshi's eyebrows shot up for a moment, and then she giggled spontaneously.

"Oh god, I _know_!" she replied in a quieter but considerably more animated tone, placing both her hands flat on the table and leaning forward slightly. A solicitous grin had sprung onto her face.

"She was _definitely_ flirting with him," Hoshi continued, and T'Pol felt the unpleasant emotion flare again, this time seemingly in the pit of her stomach. She took a measured breath before speaking.

"Do you believe the Captain reciprocated her feelings?" she asked, and Hoshi frowned, glancing down at the table for a moment as she considered the question.

"No," Hoshi replied after the briefest of pauses. "No, I don't think so."

The emotion T'Pol was feeling altered. It remained disquieting, but its nature had changed. It seemed less unpleasant, somehow. She knew it would be best to abandon this topic of conversation, but she had spoken again before she could stop herself.

"Then you do not believe the incident with his jacket was of significance?" she asked, and Hoshi looked momentarily confused.

"His jacket?" the younger woman asked, and then a look of recognition passed over her face, followed by a small smile. "Oh, that. No, that's just Captain Archer," she said. "I don't think there was anything in it."

T'Pol nodded slowly, glancing down at her tea. Her emotional state had once again altered, but this time the feeling was directed towards Ensign Sato.

_Gratitude?_ she wondered, frowning slightly, but her mind offered neither confirmation nor denial. She looked up to see that Hoshi was looking confused once more.

"I mean, _you_ don't think that he-" Hoshi began, but she was quickly cut off by the other woman.

"No," T'Pol said flatly, her face once again impossible to read. Hoshi nodded slowly, her smile fading.

"Because I'm sure he was just being gallant," Hoshi continued, choosing her words carefully. "He'd do the same for you or me."

She was surprised to see a slight tinge of green colour appear on the Vulcan woman's cheeks, and only with an effort managed to keep her own eyebrows from shooting up.

_She was jealous?_ Hoshi thought, and then immediately chided herself for thinking it. T'Pol would have been the first to say that Vulcans do not experience jealousy. And yet Hoshi's instincts told her loud and clear that there was some animosity regarding the Captain lending his jacket to the female official yesterday.

Hoshi's train of thought was interrupted as T'Pol pushed her chair back from the table and stood up.

"I must prepare today's duty roster, Ensign," she said, nodding towards the younger woman. "I shall see you on the bridge shortly."

Hoshi gave a small smile and nodded as T'Pol left, unable to stop herself glancing after the departing woman.

_That was weird_, she thought, frowning again. It already seemed ridiculous to believe that the Sub-Commander would be experiencing jealousy, though it wouldn't be the first time that Hoshi had wondered whether there weren't some unresolved feelings between her and the Captain.

The temptation to interfere was strong, and right on cue she heard Trip's accusatory voice in her head.

_Hoshi, quit with the matchmakin'! You're playin' with fire, darlin' - and one of these days you'll get burnt!_

She smiled. Commander Tucker had warned her against interfering in other people's relationships on more than one occasion, and she reluctantly had to admit that it was good advice. That didn't mean she was going to _take_ that advice, of course.

Her smile widened a little and she shook her head, pulling the PADD towards her once more.

T'Pol stepped inside her quarters and sighed with relief as the door closed behind her. This was certainly becoming a day for lack of emotional control.

She would join the Captain and Commander Tucker for breakfast shortly, but for now she required a few minutes of quiet in order to regain her calm after the conversation with Ensign Sato.

_Ensign Sato likely realised the nature of my emotional response at almost the same moment I did_, she thought.

She found this mildly frustrating, but then such matters were unfamiliar territory for her. Far more troubling was the fact that she had had the emotional response in the first place.

_It would appear that I experienced a moment of jealousy_, she thought, attempting to maintain a clinical detachment. _Another side-effect of being surrounded by unchecked human emotions, no doubt_.

That was at least plausibly logical, and she resolved to think no more about it. She glanced out of her cabin window and saw the reassuring streaks of light that indicated they were at warp. There was little point dwelling on the issue when the incident, and the planet on which it had occurred, was now falling further and further behind with each passing minute.

For that, she _would_ admit to a small measure of gratitude.

* * *

Jonathan Archer paced his ready room, troubled. As was quite frequently the case, the focus of his consternation was his Vulcan first officer.

_I just can't figure out what I'm supposed to have done_, he thought.

She had been fine all during the mission yesterday; just her usual self. Very helpful to have along too. There didn't seem to have been any problems there.

_Then she did a disappearing act after we got back to the ship, and today it's like she's... as near as she gets to being _angry_. With me._

He frowned, stopping in the middle of the room. He'd been thinking about this for almost an hour now, and was no further forward. The mission had been a huge success, and he thought he'd conducted himself admirably. If he was being honest, he'd been almost expecting her to congratulate him on how well the negotiations had gone.

Instead, she had been distant and uncommunicative at breakfast, scarcely making eye-contact, much less speaking. It had been uncomfortable, even when Trip finally arrived.

_But not for long, since she used that as an excuse to get out of there_, he recalled, somewhat bitterly.

He was sure he hadn't broken protocol or said anything unwise or offensive while they were on the planet; he was _certain_ of it. So what had he done?

"The hell with it," he said aloud, crossing to his desk and pressing the comm button. "Archer to T'Pol; could you join me in my ready room?"

"Of course, Captain," came the response a moment later. Archer closed the channel and sighed, unconsciously straightening his uniform.

The door opened less than thirty seconds later, and T'Pol walked into the room. Archer gave her a cautious smile, which she of course did not return.

"Take a seat," he said, gesturing towards the lounge chair across from his desk. She hesitated for a moment, and then sat down.

T'Pol saw that Archer was regarding her with a pensive expression, and when he did not immediately speak she began to feel uncomfortable.

"Was there something unsatisfactory about the duty roster, Captain?" she asked carefully, but he only shook his head.

After a moment he stood up and went to the window, gazing out at the stars in silence. T'Pol was accustomed to these interludes, and sat in silence to await his next words. Almost a full minute passed before he spoke again, without turning around to face her.

"Have I done something to offend you?" he asked in a quiet voice, and she felt her stomach clench.

_He has detected that my behaviour has altered_, she thought. This realisation caused anxiety, for reasons which were not entirely clear.

"I... do not know what you mean," she replied, and at last he turned to look at her.

"That's not a denial," he said, and folded his arms.

"You have not offended me," she replied. "What has caused you to ask this?"

Archer sighed and gave her a look which she recognised well - it was his _You know very well what I mean_ look. He would often use it after he had accused her of emotional behaviour and she had consequently reminded him that Vulcans did not experience emotion. Which, of course, was a significant but convenient exaggeration.

_Especially today_, she thought, and shifted slightly in the chair.

"You disappeared after we got back from the planet yesterday," he said, "and you've not been the same since. You hardly said a word at breakfast, and you seem... tense around me. More than usual, I mean."

He looked at her for any sign of recognition, but she only blinked. She was clearly uncomfortable, but as usual she wasn't about to admit it. He sighed again, and decided to try a different approach.

He crossed the room to stand in front of the chair T'Pol was sitting in, and crouched down in front of her, with a weak smile. He noticed with confusion that she visibly tensed up.

"If I've inadvertently done something wrong, then I apologise," he began in a kind tone, "but you're going to have to help me to figure out what it was or there's probably a good chance I'll do it again."

She knew that he was attempting to use humour to lighten the mood, and she was grateful for it, but she also once against felt the tug of the unpleasant emotion from the day before. She was suddenly aware of how close he was. Beneath the veneer of good humour, she saw that his eyes contained genuine puzzlement, and perhaps an element of hurt.

_He was not attempting to return the woman's advances yesterday_, she realised. In fact, she found that she could no longer understand how she could have thought so in the first place.

"I apologise, Captain," she said, seeing his eyebrows raise slightly in response. "I... did not manage to meditate with much success last night, and am slightly fatigued. That is all." With an effort, she met his eyes with a steady gaze.

He stared at her for a long moment, and she could see him searching her face. At length, he nodded and smiled.

"OK," he said, standing up and taking a step back. "If you're sure that's all it is."

"I am certain," she said, also standing up to face him.

"Why don't you take an hour to meditate now?" he said. "Things are pretty quiet. I'll sure we can manage without you for a little while."

His tone was warm, and she felt a slight flush in her cheeks. Ordinarily she would have refused his offer on principle, but with her emotions so close to the surface today it would be unwise to pass up the chance for additional meditation.

"Thank you, Captain," she said, "I believe I will do so."

"Great," he replied, and she nodded at him as she turned to leave.

"T'Pol?", he said, his voice quiet again, and she glanced back at him with one eyebrow raised in a silent question.

He stepped closer to her, and she felt her pulse quicken. Archer raised his hands and gently clasped her shoulders, and she felt another rush of warmth to her cheeks. Surely she must be visibly flushed by now? If she was, his expression gave no sign that he had seen it. She held his gaze as he looked deep into her eyes.

"You know that you can always talk to me, about anything, don't you?" he asked gently, his voice barely loud enough for her to hear despite being so close by.

She felt yet another emotion twist through her, and her gaze flicked momentarily down to his lips before meeting his eyes once more.

Archer felt a familiar pull in his chest, and for the hundredth time suppressed the urge to kiss her. Her large green eyes reflected every one of the stars streaming past the window opposite, and as her gaze flickered it took all his strength to keep himself from lifting one hand from her shoulder to caress her cheek.

_Steady, Jon_, he thought. It was always much more difficult to banish those thoughts when she was nearby. But that's what they had to remain: just thoughts.

She saw a note of sadness enter his eyes, and could only nod in response, but he only released her shoulders after several long moments. He seemed about to say something more, but instead simply returned the nod and then walked back over to the window.

He heard the door opening, then the sound of receding footsteps, and then the door closing. He saw only the stars.


	3. Chapter 3

The day had dragged, and Archer was agitated rather than tired by the time alpha shift ended at 1600 hours. It was much too early for dinner, and he didn't feel like catching up on paperwork just at the moment, so he decided to kill two birds with one stone and go to the gym.

He stopped off at his quarters to change his clothes and feed Porthos, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He pulled a grey sweater from a cupboard as he pondered his conversation with T'Pol that morning.

_She did seem a little less withdrawn afterwards_, he thought.

It had been more than two hours after their discussion when he finally left the ready room and returned to the bridge, and she had been back at her station. She had even glanced up and nodded perfunctorily to him; he had responded with a small smile.

The afternoon had been mostly quiet; he had spent much of his time once again in his ready room, reading reports, responding to communiques from Starfleet, and generally taking care of the copious busywork associated with commanding a starship.

_I'm not sure I even spoke to her again today other than to give orders_, he realised, and his heart sank.

He had felt something from her when they were in the ready room; it was just beneath the surface. Something in the way she'd reacted when he'd told her she could always talk to him.

_You're seeing what you want to see_, his mind cautioned, and he frowned.

Porthos, as if sensing his beloved master's mood, stopped eating and glanced up with his sad eyes. Archer looked down at him.

"This time it's more than that," he said. "I'm sure of it."

Porthos barked, and Archer grinned as he leaned down to pet the small animal.

"Yeah, well you're even more biased than I am," he said.

* * *

The gym was almost empty, which was a rare piece of luck. Archer dropped the sweater he had brought with him over the handrail of a treadmill and stepped onto the platform, setting the machine for a medium jogging pace.

Within minutes he was fully focused on the rhythm of his feet pounding against the moving surface, and his mind was refreshingly empty.

The gym filled up rapidly over the next twenty-five minutes, as it always did after the end of a duty shift. By the time Archer decided to reduce the machine's pace to begin his warm-down, all of the other treadmills were occupied and in motion.

After a further five minutes, he pressed the control to bring the treadmill to a stop and stood for a moment, allowing his breathing to slow slightly. He turned around and stepped off, and then he saw her.

T'Pol was standing at the wall behind the row of treadmills, waiting for a machine to become available. After a moment, she walked towards him.

"Captain," she said, and he smiled.

"Good timing," he said, jerking a thumb back towards the treadmill, and she nodded.

"Indeed," she replied.

There was an awkward pause. He wanted to say something more, but he couldn't think of anything that didn't sound foolish. He sighed, drawing yet another raised eyebrow from her.

"Well, enjoy your workout!" he said, as breezily as he could muster, and strode away towards the exit.

T'Pol watched him leave, and then took her place on the treadmill. Humans were a curious species; always given to unnecessary chatter, and subsequent discomfort if they didn't feel that they had provided sufficient conversation.

She had been running for almost ten minutes when she noticed his sweatshirt still hanging on the handrail in front of her.

* * *

T'Pol felt refreshed. The shower seemed to have washed away more than the grime of the duty shift and subsequent workout; she once again felt a measure of calm.

She changed into a fresh uniform, and glanced at the chronometer on the wall above her desk. It was not yet time for her evening meal.

_Perhaps I shall read for a short while,_ she thought.

She crossed from her desk towards the bookshelf above her bed, but she stopped before reaching it. Archer's sweater lay on her bed. She had brought it with her from the gym, intending to return it to him before dinner. She felt a flush creep across her cheeks.

_It is a standard-issue grey Starfleet sweater_, she thought. _One of literally dozens onboard this vessel_.

That was true. But it was also _his_ sweater, and clearly one he had owned for some time, given the faded logo and the pilled fabric. She hesitated for a moment, then reached out and picked it up.

It was surprisingly soft, and completely dry. He had not worn this sweater during his workout.

She suddenly wondered how the material would feel against her cheek. The thought surprised her, and she raised an eyebrow subconsciously.

_I am experiencing an emotional reaction to this garment_, she realised. _It would be illogical to-_

But the thought was never finished. She had inhaled and had caught his scent from the sweater - distinctly human, and very male, but mostly something uniquely his own.

_Jonathan_, she thought, and then she shivered.

She lifted the garment and pressed it gently to her cheek, inhaled deeply, and she was surrounded by him.


	4. Chapter 4

"_Enough_, already!" Archer exclaimed to no-one in particular, but his words were muffled by the towel he was using to dry his hair.

He had paced his quarters for almost half an hour after returning from the gym, before becoming aware of just how keenly he needed a shower.

He was now once again pacing like a caged animal, and Porthos had long since given up following him around the room. The beagle was now sitting in his basket with his head on his forepaws, watching the agitated man march back and forth.

"I couldn't think of anything to say," Archer said, causing Porthos' ears to twitch. "It was like I was back in high school."

He laughed, but without much genuine amusement. The whole situation was getting out of hand. Being puzzled by her behaviour was one thing, but starting to actually get awkward around her was ridiculous.

He stopped pacing, and folded his arms.

_I'm attracted to her,_ he thought. _No question about that. But there's no crime in it either._

Was that true? Probably. Fraternisation was discouraged amongst crewmembers, and most certainly between those on different levels of the chain of command, but it was hardly prohibited. And that was actual _relationships_; this was just an unspoken attraction.

"And an unrequited one," he added, aloud. He frowned, and resumed pacing.

There had certainly been several moments over the past year when he'd fleetingly wondered if T'Pol might harbour feelings for him, but the whole concept was just so difficult to accept.

She most certainly _had_ feelings, and experienced emotional responses to things - no matter what she might want you to believe about Vulcans - but it was a big jump to say that she could actually become _attracted_ to a colleague.

"Especially to a human," he said, but where he expected to feel the familiar tinge of bitterness, there was only weariness and something approaching regret.

Dancing around the issue was wearing him down, and this latest episode of almost emotional behaviour from her seemed to have taken a heavier toll on him than he'd thought this morning.

_Maybe I should just finally talk to her about this_, he thought. _Just to clear the air._

This was one situation where her standard defense about Vulcans not experiencing emotions could actually work in his favour; she could hardly claim to be uncomfortable discussing it for the purposes of reducing friction between them.

"It's only logical," he said, and again laughed without humour.

He glanced over towards Porthos, who was still watching him intently. He gave the dog a smile, and received two quick swishes of the tail in response.

"I'm going to take that as 'good luck', pal," he said, and after a further moment he crossed to the door.

* * *

T'Pol sat on the end of her bed, clasping the sweater against her chest. Her eyes were closed. The silence of the room belied the turmoil within her mind.

She had clearly underestimated the degree to which she had been repressing her feelings about Captain Archer; that much had become plain.

_It would seem that the events of yesterday acted as a catalyst_, she reflected.

She had spent the last twenty minutes or so at the centre of a whirlwind of newly-acknowledged, if not quite newly-awakened, emotions. As soon as she had caught his scent on the sweater, she had felt a surge of two contradictory feelings.

_I experienced a sense of both his presence and his absence_, she thought.

She had closed her eyes involuntarily at the time, and it was as if he was standing right there in front of her. It wasn't just the familiar scent; she found she could picture even the smallest details of his face. Every feature, even the creases around his eyes which appeared most prominently when he smiled. She had not been aware that she had developed such an exquisitely detailed familiarity with his appearance.

But then the sense of absence had risen, and this was the most unsettling feeling of all. She could still picture him, and it was still as if he was standing just in front of her - but suddenly that small distance created a sense of loss.

Even if he had actually been there with her in her quarters, standing so near, there would have been an invisible barrier between them.

_A barrier of protocol,_ her mind supplied, but that wasn't all of it. _A barrier of culture._

But not _his_ culture. Humans were very accustomed to being within the personal space of others; they made physical contact regularly and with abandon. Archer would clap Commander Tucker on the back when congratulating him, or comfortingly squeeze the arm of Ensign Sato if she was experiencing doubt in her abilities.

_But it is different between he and I_, she thought.

He did occasionally touch her; he had done so this morning, in what had become his usual gesture: he clasped her shoulders with his hands. But there was a strained formality about it; there was reticence. There was a barrier.

_It is a barrier of my own making_, she realised.

It was true that Vulcans generally did not like to be touched, but her stance on the matter had necessarily been gradually modified during her time on Enterprise. Nonetheless, she had always maintained an appropriate detachment from her human crewmates, and in some ways she maintained the greatest detachment of all from Captain Archer.

It would not have been difficult, given that she was his First Officer, to let her guard down slightly when she was around him. She could perhaps even have had some semblance of the easy interaction that he enjoyed with Commander Tucker. But she had not permitted it.

_He has always seen me at my most guarded_, she realised. He had even alluded to it that very morning, by saying that she was more tense _than usual_.

All at once, the nature of the barrier between them was clear, and she felt as if there was ice in her stomach. She had systematically ensured that he would always view her as different from the others onboard - and particularly different from human _women_. The mere possibility of any personal relationship between them would surely never even have entered his mind.

It was indeed a situation of her own making, and now she had discovered that she had hidden the truth of her own feelings even from herself. Commander Tucker would no doubt have said that it was _a fine old mess_.

Her heart sank, and she gathered the sweater even closer to herself, taking some small comfort in the softness of the fabric and in the smell of him.

Never had the distance between them felt greater.


	5. Chapter 5

_She's probably less than eight feet away from me right now_, he thought.

Archer stood outside her quarters, glancing nervously up and down the corridor. He didn't enjoy the idea of the crew seeing him visiting his female second-in-command's quarters at the best of times, but right now would be even worse.

_I bet I have a hell of an uncomfortable look on my face_, he thought.

He glanced down the corridor yet again, and sighed. There was no sense in putting it off now that he was here. He slowly raised his hand and pushed the chime.

* * *

She would later look back on this moment and recognise it as a pivotal one, even more so than when she had spoken with Ensign Sato and realised that she had experienced jealousy.

For now, though, her thoughts were in disarray, and she was in the unfamiliar position of being surrounded by emotions which she had not yet even attempted to suppress. It seemed important to her to at least experience them to their full, even if they could never be spoken of with the man who had given rise to them.

When the door panel chimed, she opened her eyes but she was still sufficiently besieged by her feelings to not even give a moment's consideration to who it might be or what they might think; such matters somehow seemed temporarily irrelevant.

"Come in," she said, in a small voice, and a moment later the door slid open.

Archer stepped inside, his prepared question about whether he was disturbing her meditation instantly dying on his lips.

He felt a cold weight settle into his stomach as he saw her, clutching something to her chest and looking utterly lost. Without a word, he crossed to the foot of the bed where she sat and knelt down before her, the door closing behind him automatically.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice quiet but urgent, and when she did not immediately respond he reached out and clasped her upper arms gently.

_He is here_, she thought, but the full realisation of his presence took several moments to sink in. When it did, her eyes widened in a moment of panic.

Archer saw her reaction, and watched her cheeks flush a deep green-tan colour as her shoulders tensed up.

_Oh no you don't,_ he thought.

"T'Pol, talk to me!" he pleaded, "Tell me what's happened."

Her mouth had gone dry, and she licked her lips before speaking. She was surprised at how much control she managed to exert over her voice.

"Nothing has happened, Captain," she replied, still flushed. "I was merely... lost in thought."

Archer frowned. _Lost in thought?_ That was a human expression, and not exactly something she was known for. He wasn't buying it.

T'Pol glanced downwards at her own arms against her chest. The sweater was still there, of course. She felt her cheeks burn once more. He didn't seem to have noticed it, but surely he would do so soon. And then he would deduce at least some measure of what she had been thinking about.

Archer saw her eyes move, and he instinctively released her arms. He didn't think his grip had been overly tight, but she looked uncomfortable and he wanted to give her some space. He sat back slightly, but remained in front of her.

"Sorry," he said, his hands returning to his sides, and offered her a weak smile.

As his hands left her she was suddenly aware of the heat she had felt at their touch, which was now painfully absent. She shivered, and broke eye-contact when she saw his frown return.

"Are you cold?" he asked, grasping at straws now. He knew she was used to much higher temperatures than Enterprise's life-support systems usually provided, and her shiver had echoed through her entire body.

He glanced down to see what she was clutching, and saw that it was a grey sweater; Starfleet standard-issue.

_Must be from the ship's stores_, he thought. It made sense; she'd felt cold, and she'd been about to put on a sweater when he arrived.

"Why don't you put that on?" he said, kindly. "Then we can talk about whatever's on your mind."

Her eyes widened slightly at his suggestion, and she exhaled. There was now no reasonable way to avoid the truth being known, at least regarding the garment.

"It does not belong to me," she said, and he glanced at it once more.

Mentally steadying herself, she lowered her arms to reveal the side of the sweater that had been clasped to her body, and Archer's eyes followed it. At first he saw nothing remarkable, but then he noticed the Starfleet logo was slightly frayed around the edges, and had a distinctive heavy crease running diagonally across it.

_That's mine_, he thought, and for a moment he felt unanchored, as if he was drifting freely in space.

"You left it in the gym this afternoon," she said, watching him carefully. "I had planned to return it to you this evening."

He nodded slowly, no less confused, but it was only a few moments before she spoke again.

"I did not intend to borrow it."

Archer felt as if a flash of light had suddenly illuminated normally darkened corners of his recollection. Pieces of events both recent and remote swam into focus and began inexorably combining, assembling themselves into something which felt as if it had enormous significance.

_Borrow_, he thought.

The woman. The trade official, on the planet yesterday. That was when this had all started. T'Pol had been fine the whole day - entirely her usual self. And then they had had to wait in what felt like Arctic winds on the landing pad, because those same winds caused the shuttlepod to have to take a longer approach vector.

_My jacket_.

He remembered now. T'Pol had glanced at him with bemusement when he had removed his jacket on the landing pad, but she had become very still when he had offered his jacket to the alien woman. He had felt her watching him as the woman gratefully accepted the jacket.

_And then she didn't make eye contact with me again until we were back on Enterprise_, he realised. At which point she had promptly disappeared.

Cut to this morning, and her mood at breakfast. She had been.... what was the word? It had been evading him all day, but it felt closer than ever.

_Sullen!_ his mind exclaimed with triumph.

Yes, that was exactly it. She still hadn't forgiven him even though the planet was by that point light years behind them. The pieces locked into place, and his mouth fell open in astonishment as his head snapped up to meet her anxious gaze.

"You were jealous," he said, in a voice only just loud enough for her to hear. Her cheeks flared with colour again, and she closed her eyes.

Archer slowly stood up, in a daze, and took a few aimless steps before turning to look at her. Her eyes were open again, but she was looking intently down at her own hands in her lap, still clutching his sweater.

_She was jealous of that woman, just because I loaned out my jacket for five minutes_, he thought. _And then today I find her sitting on her bed clutching my sweater._

The feeling of being dazed abruptly vanished, and his heart went out to her. Guilt, relief, gratitude, protectiveness and something else all rose up, and he went to her, sitting beside her on the end of the bed.

"T'Pol," he said, placing his hand on top of hers until she reluctantly met his eye.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, squeezing her hand gently. "I honestly had no idea."

Her eyes were large and dark in the subdued light of her cabin, and he saw a small tear spill out and trickle down her cheek.

He reached up with his other hand and carefully brushed it away with his thumb, and she blinked. He searched her face as she simply watched him with those expressive eyes, and then after a long moment she spoke.

"I should be the one to apologise, Captain," she said, in a small voice that was not quite steady.

He sighed and shook his head.

"It's _Jonathan_, T'Pol" he replied. "I think that right now it might be a good idea to call me Jonathan."

She glanced away, considering this, then slowly nodded.

"Jonathan," she confirmed, hesitantly. He liked how his own name sounded on her lips.

"Now what are you apologising for?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"I... have behaved inappropriately," she began, her eyes now locked on his hand which sat on top of hers. "I should not have allowed my reaction to affect our working relationship."

"That's probably true," he said, with humour in his voice, "but we're only human."

She looked up sharply at him, one eyebrow raised, and he could see the amusement glinting in her eyes. He raised his other hand, palm outward in surrender, and grinned at her. He saw the corner of her mouth twitch almost imperceptibly in response, and felt another surge of affection for her.

"Be that as it may," she said pointedly, her voice recovering some of its usual measure of control, "I regret causing you any concern or embarrassment."

He sighed in frustration and pulled her hand a little closer, seeing her eye widen in response. He reached over and took her other hand in his.

"T'Pol," he said, choosing his words very carefully now, "Why would you think you'd embarrassed me?" He squeezed her hands again as if to emphasise the point.

She flushed slightly and looked away as she replied.

"My reaction was inappropriate. and now that you have become aware of it, we-"

"And what if I felt the same way about you?" he interrupted, quietly.

She suddenly knew what humans meant when they spoke of butterflies in their stomachs. She looked up at him, shocked, and she felt somehow both faint but also exceptionally aware of his hands on hers.

He only returned her gaze steadily, with a slightly sad smile. After a moment, he released her hands and stood up, walking over to the window and looking out as he collected his thoughts.

T'Pol's mind echoed with a thousand questions, but she was unsure if she could articulate any of them. His words had been completely unexpected, and had caught her utterly by surprise. She sat in silence for long moments as she replayed the last few minutes over and over in her mind. Eventually, she looked up at him again, but he was still staring out of the window, his back to her.

_What is he thinking?_ she wondered. _Does he regret his words?_

Where there was so much uncertainty, the only logical option was to be direct. She reluctantly put the sweater down on the bed and stood up, taking a step forward. Archer turned around to face her, still standing beside the window.

"Are you saying that you... have developed romantic feelings for me?" she asked, with a unique blend of bravery and innocence which almost broke his heart.

"That's what I'm saying," he replied softly.

She tilted her head, trying to accept the fact of it. She felt a warmth within her; a potent mixture of relief that she had not been mistaken in her interpretation, a vague sense of anticipation, and a much stronger emotion which she was not familiar with.

_I believe this is joy_, her mind supplied.

She looked into his eyes, and found that she could read his expression with certainty. Happiness, because he knew that she was relieved. Caution, because he was unsure how she would respond. And most of all, expectation.

_He now requires clarification regarding my own feelings_, she realised.

It was only logical. She sensed that he was now more vulnerable than he had ever been in her presence, and she automatically took a small step forward.

"Jonathan," she began, noting with satisfaction his small smile at her use of his first name, "I... have little experience in such matters, but I believe I have also developed romantic feelings for you."

His smile widened and at last he came away from the window to stand before her. She took a deep breath, uncertain what he would do next, but he only reached out and gently ran his fingers down her cheek.

His touch was electric, and her eyes flickered shut for a brief moment before opening again. She looked up at him and felt another surge of the new emotion as she saw that his eyes were sparkling.

"I've wanted to do that for a really long time," he said.


	6. Chapter 6

"So where do we go from here?" Archer asked, with a gentle smile.

He had allowed his hand to fall back to his side after caressing her cheek, and had looked at her for several long moments in silence before speaking.

T'Pol felt a brief surge of anxiety at his question. She had not anticipated that she would ever find herself in this situation, and she felt completely unprepared.

"I... am uncertain how to proceed," she said carefully, and Archer nodded. He glanced down at the floor briefly before speaking again.

"We've been dancing around this for a long time," he said, and she inclined her head slightly in agreement. He could see that she was paying close attention to his every word.

"I guess I always planned to talk to you about it, at least some day," he continued, "but I pictured it being a little different than this."

"How did you picture it?" she asked, in a small voice, and he saw that her eyes were very wide.

"Well, I thought it'd be me who brought it up, for a start," he said with a slightly embarrassed grin, unconsciously scratching the side of his face briefly. "And, well, I kind of expected you to be... shocked."

She frowned slightly, confused. "Why would I be shocked?" she asked.

He opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it and shook his head before beginning again.

"I just honestly had no idea that you... that we felt the same way. About each other," he said, and after a moment she nodded in acknowledgement.

"Nor did I," she said, and again her eyes were wide.

_She's in unfamiliar territory here_, he realised, _and right now she can't read me as well as she'd like to._

He smiled at her, seeing her shoulders relax slightly. He looked at her for another long moment.

"T'Pol, do you want this?" he asked, and this time it was she who glanced down at the floor between them.

"Do _you_?" she asked, and her voice was barely a whisper.

He reached out and gently lifted her chin, and she once again made eye contact with him.

"Yes, I do," he replied. "But only if it's what you want too."

Even though she barely moved, he saw relief wash over her. It was difficult to believe, but even after he'd confirmed how he felt, she had still doubted whether he would want to actually pursue a relationship.

_This is all brand new to her_, he thought. He suddenly saw with perfect clarity just how utterly unaware she had been of the depth of his attraction towards her.

T'Pol looked into his eyes with wonder. She had never allowed herself to dwell on the idea of actually entering into a relationship with Jonathan Archer; it would have been illogical and dangerous to even acknowledge such thoughts.

_And yet I have imagined this moment many times_, she admitted to herself.

That was true, but she had always dismissed the fantasy as the ultimate in foolishness. There were so many barriers, even if he had for some reason felt affection towards her. Their ranks and positions on Enterprise, their different cultures and backgrounds, and the very fact that they were different species.

_But here and now, there are only the two of us_, she thought.

It was a fact which brought clarity but also an astonishing new emotion - something which had always been there, too enormous and cataclysmically powerful to even contemplate. There were only the two of them, but there was also this immense feeling which now enveloped her.

It was like a calm, warm pool with unimaginably vast hidden depths; a pool which nevertheless also somehow possessed the breadth and endless power of a great ocean. It was an emotion for which she had no name, and yet in that moment she was certain that he also felt its presence.

_This feeling now unites us_, she realised, and it was as certain and true as any physical law or tenet of science. Unseen and unnamed, and yet in this instant even more solid than the deckplates beneath her feet.

All at once, she suddenly saw that this emotion was truly different. It was not that they were both experiencing a similar feeling simultaneously; it was that there was only _one_ emotion present. She felt it and so did he, but it was shared by them.

_It is unique to us,_ she understood, and the revelation struck her like a hammer-blow. One emotion between two. But not Captain Archer and his Science Officer.

_Jonathan and T'Pol_, she thought, and with that, the calm pool which surrounded her surged immediately into tidal motion.

Concerns of rank or protocol or background were unimportant, and she finally understood that to say so was _not_ recklessness or a failing of logic - those factors merely had no bearing. They were irrelevant here where there were only two people, joined without touching by a feeling which was in some way the sum of their care for one another.

He had asked whether she truly wanted this. There could be only one response.

"I wish to be with you," she said simply.

He felt a warmth spread across his chest, and he stepped forward and put his arms around her, drawing her against him. She tensed for only the briefest moment before he felt her relax, turning her head to lay against his chest. After a moment, her slender arms snaked around his waist.

Long minutes passed unacknowledged. Outside the window entire solar systems streaked by, the very fabric of space being compressed by efficient engines to propel the sleek starship at many times the speed of light.

Planets spun on their axes and swung gracefully in long, silent orbits around strange stars, and the galaxy continued its slow and truly ancient dance, supremely indifferent to the small concerns of its myriad inhabitants.

Outside, all was movement and life, and an elegant chaos of precision. Within, the universe was still.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Thanks for the positive feedback so far. I've decided to continue the story for now, and see where it goes. I had a lot of fun writing chapter 6, even though it's fairly short - I think the last few paragraphs are quite effective. Keep the reviews coming.**

* * *

Archer was unsure exactly how long they'd been standing there, holding each other; he only knew that it couldn't ever be long enough.

_An hour ago I was wondering if she'd even talk about what was on her mind_, he thought, smiling to himself. They had ended up needing very few words.

_But the words are important_, he realised. _Particularly for her._

She was Vulcan, after all, and whilst she seemed utterly content in his arms right now, this must all be completely unfamiliar to her. They would have to talk, and he would have to be careful not to rush what needed to be said.

She was still pressed against him, her head against his chest, and he could feel her calm, steady breathing. She had been tense for a moment when he took her into his arms, but then all the tension had run out of her as she returned the embrace.

He inhaled deeply, and was surrounded by the scent of her; a sweet, feminine fragrance with an exotic edge. His body knew that she was not of his kind, but it also knew that she was a woman nonetheless. He sighed, and felt her arms tighten around his waist.

_Somehow I have come home_, she thought.

Her eyes were closed, but she was no less aware of the man who held her than she would have been if she was looking directly at him. She felt his arms around her, and she heard his strong, regular heartbeat through his chest. His scent permeated every breath she took.

This experience was entirely new, and yet the primary sensation was an explicable sense of belonging. She felt not as if she was home on Vulcan, but rather that she had found a truer home; a place she had sought without even being aware of its existence.

_To be with him is to be home_, she realised, and the thought filled her with wonder. _Wherever he is, that is where I belong_.

Archer felt her press herself slightly tighter against him, and he smiled. After a moment's thought, he lowered his head and pressed his lips gently against her forehead.

T'Pol's eyes snapped open at the sensation, and then time seemed to slow to a crawl.

Vulcans were somewhat empathic at all times, but when in physical contact with many other species they became fully telepathic. There had been several brief moments in the past when he had touched her and she had begun to discern the shape of his thoughts, but her own reticence and control had always prevented her from exploring further. No such controls were in place now.

It began as it always did; a faint perception of distant sound, not unlike the rustling of leaves or the blowing of gentle winds over the desert. The phantom sounds quickly resolved into whispers, and she heard her own name echoing in her mind but in his voice.

She allowed herself to focus on the voice, and then the images came in a torrent, like a great wave washing over her as she clung to him. As the images buffeted her, so too did his emotions.

She gasped without making a sound as she at last understood the ceaseless storm of feelings that his species lived with. The images were saturated and vivid, and the emotions rolled inexorably towards her.

The planet Earth. His father. Enterprise. The mission.

For the first time, she knew what it was to feel a sense of duty. For him, it was not only an intellectual construct; there was privilege and pride and a burden of responsibility; a desire to serve and a need to prove himself. Courage and curiosity, always tinged with concern for the crew around him. These things were the underpinnings of his every thought.

And then his mind focused on her. She saw herself on the first day they met, and then the images blurred and rushed together as she saw herself at many points during the last two years. She felt frustration gradually give over to respect, and an unspoken attraction begin to develop a depth and intensity he had never expected.

Then, at last, she saw herself through his mind's eye. She saw every detail of her appearance recorded perfectly, and even felt a shiver of amusement from him as she watched the image of herself raise a delicate eyebrow.

She saw him think of her lips, her eyes, her hair, and even the pointed tips of her ears, and she felt rather than saw his smile.

_I am beautiful to him_, she saw, feeling her pulse momentarily race. And then she closed her eyes as she finally experienced what he felt for her.

He also felt the ocean of feeling which joined them, but she had seen only the smallest part of it. To him, she was at the centre of this ocean, and its breadth was unimaginable. In her mind she saw it extending outwards for light-years, or perhaps infinitely. She had never even considered that it was possible to experience such intensity of emotion.

_Yet this is his feeling for me_, she thought.

She felt his lips leave her forehead, and his presence in her mind dissipated quickly into echoes. The entire experience had taken place in the space of perhaps two seconds, and yet already she keenly felt the absence.

Reluctantly she loosened her grip around his waist and allowed her arms to fall to her sides. After a moment she felt him release her from his arms and take a half step back, looking down at her with the ghost of a question in his eyes.

"You OK?" he asked, after a brief pause, and she nodded slowly.

"I was... unprepared for this situation," she said, and he gave a small laugh.

"I think we both were," he replied.

He could see that she was unsure what to say, and he sensed that she was feeling some anxiety about it.

_She's been on what even a human would call an emotional roller-coaster since yesterday_, he realised. _It must have been exhausting for her._

"Listen," he said, once again placing his hands on her shoulders with a gentle smile; "why don't you take a little time to think about all this; maybe do some meditation? It must be a lot to take in all at once. God knows it is for me."

She searched his face but found nothing unsettling there; he simply had some concept of how much she had gone through over the last 24 hours, and knew she needed time to absorb and reflect upon what had happened.

_His suggestion is logical and wise_, she thought.

"I believe that would be beneficial," she said, and he nodded, releasing her shoulders. He looked at her for a long moment before speaking again.

"I'll understand if you want to be left to your thoughts tonight, but would you like to join me for dinner later? Say twenty hundred hours?"

She felt relief, and only then realised that she had been anxious about when they would next see each other.

"That would be acceptable," she said, and he gave her a lopsided grin.

"Glad to hear it," he replied, and after another long look at her he nodded once more and walked towards the cabin door. She turned to watch him go.

He reached the door but before pressing the control he turned to face her. She was standing by the bed, and he could see his sweater sitting on the sheets.

"Consider that a gift," he said, and her eyes flicked down towards the garment before meeting his gaze again. She said nothing, but he saw her cheeks colour slightly.

_A green blush_, he thought. _Never thought I'd get used to that, but it's kind of pretty._

He smiled for a moment, but then his face became earnest. He saw her eyebrow raise slightly, and he doubted she was even aware of it.

"Do you have any regrets, T'Pol?" he asked quietly. "About... what's happened here, I mean."

She looked back at him with her large eyes, and he could just discern a hint of the expression which passed for amusement. She used it often when she thought he had done something particularly foolish - or particularly Human.

"My only regret, Jonathan, is that this did not happen long ago," she replied gently.

He beamed at her, and she felt another surge of the emotional tide which joined them. She found that she desperately wanted to cross the room and be by his side again, and she intuitively knew that he felt the same urge. She also knew that he would not give in to that urge yet, because he did not want to rush her.

He gave a deep sigh, and then reached for the door control.

"See you at dinner," he said, and she thought that there was something else he had also said, but without actual words.

She simply nodded, and he stepped out into the corridor, the door closing automatically behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

Archer hadn't been able to sit still for more than a minute at a time after he'd left T'Pol to meditate.

After pacing his quarters for a short while, he had decided to take Porthos for a walk to get rid of some of his excess energy, and also use the opportunity to let Trip know that he wouldn't be able to join him for dinner tonight.

He had just entered Engineering, and it wasn't long before he heard a familiar voice.

"Are you absolutely _certain_ about this, Commander?"

Malcolm frowned as he watched Trip peer through an open access panel at the exposed power coupling inside.

"Pretty damn certain," Trip replied, and Reed gave an exaggerated sigh.

The two men were on the lower level, on the port side at the far end of the warp core. Beta shift had already taken over, but Trip had agreed to take half an hour to meet with Reed and hear his proposal to increase the effectiveness of Enterprise's defensive capabilities.

"These power couplings are rated for more than four times their current load; doubling the throughput isn't going to cause an explosion," Reed said in his clipped British accent, and Trip glanced briefly at him before once again turning his attention to the panel.

"I _do_ know the power ratin', Malcolm," he replied pointedly, "and I wasn't thinkin' about right now. I was thinkin' more about when you next decide to blast some asteroids for target practice. The phase cannons take their feed from right here too. It's not just the hull."

Malcolm frowned for the second time in as many minutes.

"Hmm," he said. "I only wanted to try boosting the hull polarisation, but I certainly wouldn't want to introduce any risk to the cannons."

"Think we're in agreement on that one," Trip replied, picking up the panel cover and reattaching it over the opening.

"Gimme til the end of alpha shift tomorrow to see if we can't re-route some auxiliary power to the polarising coils," he continued, and the Englishman nodded.

"I do appreciate your help," Reed said, and Trip grinned and slapped the other man on the shoulder.

"I reckon that's what we're here for," he said, and Reed inclined his head in agreement.

"Glad to see Tactical and Engineering are on such good terms," came Archer's voice from behind them, and both men quickly turned.

"Hey there Cap'n," Trip said, in his usual cheery lilt, and Reed quickly followed with a businesslike "Good evening, sir."

Porthos was standing beside his master's left leg, his tail wagging happily; he always enjoyed seeing Trip. The man had a friendly and interesting voice.

Archer smiled and nodded in response before speaking again.

"Everything under control?" he asked brightly, and Trip grinned.

"Absolutely," the engineer replied, gesturing expansively; "we're just lookin' into some ways to boost the hull polarisation. Malcolm had a proposal on the matter."

Trip had tilted his head almost imperceptibly, and Archer didn't fail to pick up on it. Reed's endless stream of proposals were a long-standing source of amusement for Trip and occasional frustration for Archer, and Trip would never fail to rib Reed about it.

Reed gave Trip a brief warning glance, but without malice - he was fully aware of how the chief engineer felt about his regular proposals and suggestions, and he actually took something of a perverse pleasure in ensuring he made at least one per week to the engineering department.

"Well, sounds good - keep me up to date," Archer replied with a broad grin, and clapped both men on the shoulder before turning and striding away, Porthos quickly following. After several steps he came to a abrupt stop and turned back to face them.

"Almost forgot," he said with a small laugh, "Trip, I need to cancel dinner tonight; something else came up and T'Pol and I need the Captain's Mess. Can you wait a little longer to see Florida get humiliated?"

Trip chuckled and nodded twice in response.

"No problem, Jon," he replied, "but you're just delayin' the inevitable. That bottle of scotch is as good as mine."

Archer laughed loudly and only pointed to his friend as he once again turned away and strode off towards the nearby exit.

Reed and Trip watched him depart with the small beagle in tow, both wearing almost identical expressions of mild bemusement.

"The Captain certainly seems in a good mood," Reed remarked, and Trip nodded thoughtfully.

"Sure does," he replied after a moment, and then shrugged. "But seems like I've been cut loose for the evenin'."

"We could always go and see who's in the Mess Hall. Perhaps Ensigns Sato and Mayweather have drifted down there by now," Reed suggested, and Trip smiled.

"Sounds like a plan," he replied.

* * *

T'Pol had spent a short while meditating after Archer had left her quarters, but had soon realised that meditation was essentially counter to what she most desired to do at this moment: to explore the series of new emotions she had experienced in his presence earlier. At last she had extinguished the candle and crossed to her bed, and had been sitting there cross-legged for almost half an hour.

Her primary thought was wonder at the scale of the feeling she had sensed in him as he held her. It had been far stronger than she had imagined; as an emotion it seemed to dwarf even anger or fear. Yet the precise nature of it remained unknown to her, despite it being somehow familiar.

_Perhaps we shall discuss it tonight_, she thought, and she felt a small pang of anxiety.

Would he have changed his mind? Would be behave differently? Would she sense regret from him, and find him uncommunicative?

These possibilities had seemed remote and almost ridiculous when she was pressed against him not long ago, but they had taken on a troubling edge of feasibility now.

_There is no logical reason to assume that his feelings will have changed in such a short period_, she knew. _However, he may have decided upon reflection to maintain a purely professional relationship between us._

That was possible. Indeed, it may even be wise. The cold feeling in her stomach told her that, wise or not, she dearly hoped it was not the case.

She glanced at the chronometer and saw that it was almost time to meet him for dinner, and again a twist of anticipation mixed with uneasiness shivered through her, drawing a momentary small frown. She crossed to the mirror and examined her appearance.

_Shall I appear acceptable to him?_ she wondered, and then found that she had no way to answer the question. She had no experience of what was expected in such situations amongst humans. She had decided not to change her clothing since a change of attire would draw unwanted attention from the crew, and her appearance had not otherwise altered since he had last seen her - nor indeed during the entire day.

_My appearance seemed to please him earlier_, she recalled, and with a sigh she decided that she would simply go as she was. She took once last glance at her reflection then turned and crossed to the door.

_It may be wise to discuss these matters privately with Ensign Sato at some point_, she considered. _If I find that I still have reason to do so._

* * *

Archer stood at the window of the Captain's Mess looking out at the stars, keeping himself from pacing only by an effort of will. He had arrived almost fifteen minutes early, which was just enough time to get nervous.

He had already informed the steward on duty that he and his first officer would be dining alone tonight, and that he would use the call button when they were ready to order. Such instructions weren't uncommon, since sensitive ship's business was often discussed over the evening meal.

_But no ship's business tonight_, he thought, with a rueful half-grin, then glanced once again towards the door and then the chronometer in quick succession. It was still several minutes before twenty hundred hours.

He had no sooner returned to looking out the window when he heard the door open behind him, and his pulse quickened. Taking a single deep breath to calm himself, he turned to face her.

T'Pol stepped inside and the door closed behind her, but she did not immediately approach the table. She looked positively nervous. Her wide eyes looked at him with naked uncertainty, and he could have sworn he actually _felt_ her concern.

_She wonders if I'm going to give her the let's-keep-this-professional speech,_ he realised. _But how the hell do I know that?_ That question would have to wait until later.

"Hi," he said, with a small smile, and he saw her take a deep breath of her own before she replied.

"Good evening."

He looked at her for a long moment, and then walked over. He saw her take another breath, and he grinned.

"No need to be tense," he said. "I know this feels a little strange right now, but we're just having dinner like we have hundreds of times before."

She nodded slowly, her expression still uncertain, and he knew she needed reassurance. He reached out and took her hand, and squeezed it.

"We'll do this together, T'Pol," he said gently. "One step at a time."

With the touch of his hand she felt the powerful emotion once again flow up her arm and into her mind, surrounding her. She was buoyed by it, and was again certain of the strength of his feelings for her.

_He has no doubt that this is the correct path for us_, she saw, and she felt a sudden surge of affection for him. The corners of her mouth moved of their own accord.

_Is that... a smile?_ he wondered, stunned by the idea of it. Her lips had only moved very slightly, but given she was Vulcan it was more than enough.

And then there was the warm feeling of _presence_ he noticed again - it had been the same when he had kissed her forehead earlier.

_Like feeling things twice, with both emotions joined together somehow_, he thought. He couldn't quite articulate the experience, but it was intensely comforting. The overall effect of the almost-smile and the connection he felt with her was profound.

"You're beautiful when you do that," he said, and was pleased to note the flush of olive-tan colour appear on her cheeks. "You should try smiling more often."

"I had not previously found reason to do so," she replied, and he grinned once more.

"That's something we can _definitely_ work on," he said, drawing the expected raised eyebrow.

He looked into her eyes and after a moment he felt her squeeze his hand. He returned the gesture and then gently released her, gesturing towards the table.

"What do you say we order some dinner?" he asked brightly, and she tilted her head in acceptance.

He placed his hand on the small of her back, and gently guided her to her seat.


	9. Chapter 9

The side access door to the Captain's Mess slid shut behind the departing steward, the last of the dinner dishes now removed. The table was once again almost clear, with the exception of a mug of coffee in front of Archer, and an identical mug filled with camomile tea for T'Pol.

Their conversation during dinner had been comfortable enough, and mostly innocuous; only an occasional warm smile from Archer had quietly indicated that something had changed between them since they last dined here.

T'Pol took a sip of her tea, and glanced up to see that he was looking at her thoughtfully. She raised an eyebrow slightly; this time it was a deliberate gesture.

"I was just wondering where to start," he said, by way of response. He noticed a brief look of puzzlement chase across her eyes.

"I am uncertain what you mean," she said, and he smiled, reaching out and placing his hand gently over hers. He was sitting in his usual place, but tonight she had taken Commander Tucker's seat so that she would be nearer to him.

"I just mean that I was thinking how we should go about this," he continued, and then sighed. "There's so much I don't know about how your culture approaches... relationships."

T'Pol inclined her head in acknowledgement of his point, and was silent for a few moments before speaking.

"I do not believe that Vulcan practices are particularly relevant here," she said, and this time it was Archer who briefly raised an eyebrow as she continued; "since I do not wish to have a Vulcan relationship."

She looked like she had more to say, so he remained silent as she gazed unseeingly down at the table surface. At length, she spoke again.

"I do not know what is expected of females in a human relationship, and I am not human," she said in a small voice. "I find many of your customs puzzling, but I am willing to learn."

She slowly raised her head and met his eyes once more.

"I cannot enter into this lightly, Jonathan," she said, her voice almost a whisper; if she had been anyone else he would have thought that she was pleading. "That is one Vulcan trait which _is_ relevant."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she shook her head quickly; she had something else to say, and it was better to say it now before things went any further. She looked deep into his eyes and dearly hoped that he could at least see, if not actually sense, the feeling behind her words.

"I am prepared to devote myself to our pairing, but you must do the same."

He saw her eyes flick briefly down to his hand covering hers, and then she met his gaze again. Her face was set bravely, but he could see the naked vulnerability in her eyes. A part of him wanted to be offended that she could have any doubt as to how serious he was about this, but he knew that hurt pride would be irrational.

_She's afraid that I don't appreciate the significance of what she's doing here_, he thought. _She's a Vulcan, and they don't have casual relationships. Especially with other species._

He squeezed her hand and smiled, and saw her eyes momentarily brighten, though she still looked anxious.

"I know what it means for you to say you want us to be together, T'Pol," he said gently. "This isn't a casual thing for me either."

He lifted his hand from hers and caressed her cheek as he continued.

"I want this to work, and I wouldn't be here if I didn't think it could. I'm ready to do whatever it takes."

The truth of his words flowed into her from his touch, and she exhaled a breath she didn't know she had been holding.

_I care deeply for this man,_ she thought, allowing him to see the smallest glimpse of a smile once again. She saw his pupils momentarily dilate, and felt wonder at how the simple admission of their feelings had seemed to increase their understanding of one another.

"Feel any better now?" he asked, and she nodded. He smiled at her for a moment before speaking again.

"Obviously, we'll want to keep this between ourselves - at least for a while," he said carefully, watching her face as he spoke.

"Agreed," she said. "It is a private matter, and must not be permitted to interfere with our duties."

He nodded twice in quick succession, and then a thoughtful look passed over his face.

"Whenever I thought about whether I should talk to you about the attraction between us, I always imagined you'd say that our jobs made it impossible to do anything about it," he said with a hint of sadness. "I was so sure that'd be your response, I kind of talked myself out of ever bringing it up."

She glanced away, equally thoughtful, before meeting his gaze again.

"I believe that I would indeed have responded in such a way," she said, seeing him frown slightly. "I would have said that we could not perform our duties if we were distracted by romantic feelings."

"So what made you change your mind?" he asked, and this time there was no pause before her reply.

"I realised that we have been managing so far," she said simply, and she felt a warm feeling chase through her as she saw a wide grin spread across his face.

"You're a wise woman, T'Pol," he said wryly, squeezing her hand once more, and he could have sworn that she tipped her head almost imperceptibly to one side in agreement.


	10. Chapter 10

T'Pol took a deep breath as the door of the Captain's Mess opened ahead of them. They would have to pass through the main Mess Hall to reach the corridor, and she knew that many of the senior crew would still be there. They had decided to continue their conversation in less formal surroundings, and it was also time for Porthos' evening walk, so they were heading back to their quarters.

Archer stepped out into the Mess Hall and waited for T'Pol to join him, then they walked side by side past the tables towards the exit. Archer saw Trip, Hoshi and Malcolm all seated at a table near the windows, and smiled as he briefly raised a hand in greeting.

Hoshi watched her two superiors carefully as they left the room. T'Pol had glanced briefly over as the Captain had waved to their table, and it seemed almost like she had a momentary look of self-consciousness on her face.

_Interesting_, Hoshi thought. _It was just this morning she seemed jealous about that woman on the planet flirting with the Captain._

She frowned. T'Pol and the Captain _had_ just had a private dinner together, but that wasn't too unusual. It was probably just a coincidence. But still, she felt there was something more going on.

_But how do you ask your superior officer, who's a Vulcan, what's going on with her and your Captain?_

There didn't seem to be any way to bring that topic up, at least not without risking disciplinary action. Hoshi sighed aloud, still staring over at the door which lead out into the hallway.

"Hosh?"

She turned her attention back to the others at the table when she heard Trip's voice speak her name, giving a small smile by way of response.

"You alright there, Ensign?" he asked, with a bemused grin, "You kinda drifted off for a minute."

She knew he was only using her rank playfully.

"I'm fine, _Commander_," she replied, coyly tilting her head to one side as she spoke. "Just staring into space."

"Now _that_ is something we got plenty of," he replied, and his eyes lit up as she laughed.

* * *

The small beagle was already standing in the middle of the floor, wagging his tail energetically, when the door to Archer's quarters slid open.

"He seems to know what time it is," T'Pol remarked, and Archer grinned, stepping into the room with her following close behind.

"When he's got something to gain from it, he sure does," he replied.

Porthos ran over to his master and glanced up briefly, and then decided instead to focus his attention on T'Pol. He padded over to her feet, tail still wagging, and looked up at her expectantly.

She raised an eyebrow at the small creature, and then after a moment's thought she crouched down and ran her hand over his head. Porthos leaned into her touch in bliss.

Archer felt another burst of affection for her, and smiled widely. After a moment, she stood up and looked over at him.

"You don't usually pet him," he said, and she inclined her head slightly in acknowledgement.

"He is important to you," she replied gently. "Thus he is important to me."

He saw and also somehow _felt_ the simple, powerful truth of her statement, and for a moment he could find no words to respond.

_I'm in love with this woman_, he realised. The fact of it brought no trepidation, nor even very much surprise.

"T'Pol, I..." he began, but he knew it wasn't the time to finish that particular sentence. "What do you say we take him for that walk?" he said instead.

She nodded, and again there was the flicker of a smile on her lips for just a moment. She had felt the surge of emotion from him, and its warmth was still with her.

_I do not know the name of this feeling_, she thought, _but it is one which we share._

He pressed the panel and the door slid open once more, and she felt the brief reassuring touch of his hand on her back as the three of them set out along the corridor.


	11. Chapter 11

Porthos was somewhat taken-aback by this unexpected turn of events, but he certainly wasn't complaining. It wasn't every day (or any other day, ever) that T'Pol accompanied him and his master on their evening walk. He ran happily ahead down the corridors, regularly glancing back to check that the two people were still following.

They had been speaking of inconsequential things as they walked, occasionally nodding a greeting to passing crewmembers, most of whom seemed to accept her unprecedented presence on the Captain's familiar walks without a second thought.

_That is not particularly surprising_, she thought. _It is common for senior crew to converse during off-duty hours_.

They had been enjoying a companionable silence for the last couple of minutes, and she turned her head slightly to glance at him. Archer's face wore an easy smile, and he looked utterly relaxed - more so than he had in some time.

A crewman appeared from around the corner up ahead - _Ensign Yates_, her mind supplied - and she noticed Archer almost imperceptibly draw himself up slightly, to his full height. The relaxed look never left his face, however, and she was almost certain that his smile widened slightly.

"Good evening, Captain; Sub-Commander," said Yates as he drew near, and Archer replied with a somewhat fatherly "'Evening, Ensign." T'Pol nodded by way of response, and Yates passed by and continued on his way.

The next section of corridor was empty for the moment, and she came to a stop. Archer stopped only a moment later, and glanced around at her with a question on his face.

"I am... puzzled by your behaviour," she said, and saw his eyes widen in good-natured confusion.

"Oh?" he replied, seeing her head incline very slightly as she carefully chose her words. She spoke again after a brief moment.

"I believed that you might feel uncomfortable when we encountered members of the crew, given recent events," she said, and he smiled knowingly, "yet you seem in fact to relish the experience."

He nodded slowly, which she knew was a confirmation of the truth of her observation. She knew that he would elaborate in a moment when he had gathered his thoughts, and so she waited.

"It's a little silly, actually," he grinned, a trace of pink creeping into his cheeks as he absent-mindedly scratched his left ear. "It's just... well, this is just _nice_, you know?"

Seeing her even more puzzled expression and one perfect raised eyebrow, he laughed out loud.

"No, I guess you don't know," he continued. "Look, I know we're -" he glanced around briefly, checking they were still alone "- keeping things quiet for now, but I'm just enjoying being able to do something like this with you, out in public."

"'Something like this' meaning our present walk with Porthos?" she asked, and he nodded, clearly amused. She thought for a moment before speaking again.

"Even though the crewmembers we have encountered will have assumed we were discussing ship's business, and will not suspect any change has taken place in the nature of our relationship?"

"Yes, even so," he replied, smiling. He could see that her mind was working, attempting to frame his answer in the context of confusing human emotions. She was silent for several seconds this time before she met his eyes once more.

"I believe I understand," she said, and he smiled.

"You do?" he asked, genuinely interested to hear her interpretation; the truth was, he wasn't exactly sure _why_ he was enjoying the walk so much. It was usually Porthos' and his time together, but her presence only seemed to add to the experience.

She nodded confidently, though of course efficiently.

"You are gratified because we are participating in a family event," she said simply.

Her words hammered home, and he felt like all the breath had been knocked out of him. His mouth fell open, and he saw what passed for a look of surprise briefly cross her face.

_A family event?_ he thought, stunned at the idea of it. The word 'family' had elicited a very brief pulse of the anxiety reaction that most men felt when a woman they cared about first mentioned such things, but it passed just as quickly as it had appeared.

The more he thought about it, the more he realised that she was actually right - in essence, his enjoyment was based on sharing a personal occasion with her, and the fact that Porthos was there too was the icing on the cake. In a manner of speaking, it was indeed a sort of family occasion.

_Once again, the woman that people think has _no_ emotions ends up teaching me something about my own_, he thought, and he smiled at her.

She had been looking at him with another expression of mild puzzlement, but her brow smoothed out when she saw his smile.

"Was my deduction incorrect?" she asked, and he shook his head.

"On the contrary," he replied, "you saw it more clearly than I did."

Again she gave him that ghost of a smile.

"It means a lot to have you here with me and ol' Porthos," he said quietly, and she very quickly reached out and touched his arm, before once again clasping her hands behind her back as they heard approaching footsteps from further down the corridor around the corner.

The beagle had by this point returned and was pacing agitatedly around their feet, giving occasional small yips of impatience. He found it very difficult to understand how standing still could be even remotely as enjoyable as walking.

Trip had decided to walk Hoshi back to her quarters before returning to his own, and they had been so completely caught up in their conversation (which at the moment was largely concerned with him trying to determine what sort of movies she liked), that they hadn't even noticed the small sounds Porthos had been making.

They turned the corner and saw Archer and T'Pol standing there, seemingly also in the middle of a conversation, and Porthos fussing around at his master's feet as usual.

"Well hey there, Cap'n; T'Pol," Trip said warmly, and Archer nodded and smiled.

"'Evening Trip," he replied. "Trying to find out if Hoshi shares your passion for horror movies?"

Hoshi and Trip both laughed, and T'Pol noted with interest that the younger woman blushed slightly as she reflexively glanced up at Commander Tucker.

"I'll get 'er one of these days," the engineer replied, and T'Pol had the distinct but ill-defined sense that the statement was not intended purely to answer Archer's question.

Archer himself only raised an eyebrow and grinned, before glancing briefly at T'Pol.

"Well, Porthos will eat through my boots if I don't pick up the pace a little," he said, and Trip nodded as he glanced down at the small animal, who was wagging his tail furiously but still standing beside his master.

Trip and Hoshi stepped to the side to allow them to pass, and Archer and T'Pol once again nodded their goodbyes as they resumed their path down the corridor. They had only taken a few steps when Archer turned back. Porthos had not yet moved, and all four of them looked at the dog in mild puzzlement.

Porthos' tail was still wagging, and T'Pol saw that his large and appealing eyes were focused entirely on her. To her surprise, she felt her first note of genuine affection towards the diminutive quadruped.

"Porthos, come along," she said. "It is time to continue your walk."

The beagle immediately ran to her feet and then circled around in front, giving one final yip before plunging away down the corridor ahead. T'Pol nodded in satisfaction.

"Well I will be goddamned," Trip said softly, and Hoshi grinned and clasped her hands together.

T'Pol turned and set off slowly in the direction Porthos had gone, and Archer paused only to shrug with a wide smile at his friend before following her.


End file.
